A Hero
by MoonRose91
Summary: Everyone has a hero, whether they will admit it or not. It could be your best friend, your rival, a comic book superhero, your ‘steady’ or an idealized version of someone. For one, that hero is someone who doesn’t act like the typical knight...
1. V for Victory

A/N – So…this idea has been bouncing around in my head for awhile, though I couldn't get some of the characters just right. Luckily, I have help now.

Disclaimer: I only own Jane and the plot…everything else, I've borrowed for my own creativeness.

Summary: Everyone has a hero, whether they will admit it or not. It could be your best friend, your rival, a comic book superhero, your 'steady' or an idealized version of someone. For one, that hero is someone who doesn't act like the typical knight in shining armor.

Thanks to my Beta, WeirdsBestFriend, for helping me with John's character.

**Chapter 01 – V is for Victory**

John let out a final little jump of victory before continuing on his way, easily shrugging his trench coat up over onto his shoulders. Long legs stretched to carry him easily across the football field, as he began to head back to his house.

Rolling his shoulders back a little, he picked up speed slightly, carrying himself past the bleachers when he stopped suddenly, giving a sharp look toward the figure hunched over in the shadows, huddled in on itself, pencil moving across a page.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" he called, walking over to stand over by the figure.

Similar brown eyes to his own, yet more round in shape, looked up at him as the smaller, more fragile looking, girl stared up at him. "Too loud at the house," she answered quietly before looking back down at the page her pencil had been decorating seconds earlier.

He gave a heavy sigh, as if he was doing something torturous before shrugging off his coat and dropping it over her head. "Hey!" she exclaimed with sisterly indignation as she pulled it off her head, the sketch book and pencil falling into the grass at her feet.

"Put it on, and don't glare or Vernon'll come and kick your nuts in the dirt as he's told me. Unbecoming of a lay-dee," he over-enunciated.

She continued to glare, ignoring her brothers demands, and sarcastic comments, as she stood up, pulling his trench coat on.

It swamped her, but the shivering went down, or was hidden under the gigantic trench coat.

John almost seemed to ignore the cold that crucially blew into his face. The Illinois March hardly fazed him. He absent-mindedly put his hand on her arms and rubbed them up and down her arms slowly. He pretended like he wasn't since he was trying to keep up with reputation of being an uncaring bad boy, so he turned his head and looked at something else, anything, other then what he was currently doing. She mumbled out a thanks and wrapped herself even more in the oversized jacket before kneeling down to get her stuff.

"Why do I bother with you? " He questioned sarcastically and began to walk off without her.

A squeak and a hurried rush of steps told him she was running to catch up, easily walking next to him once caught up.

"Don't know," she answered and he rolled his eyes.

"Only_ I_ could have a ditz for a sister," he muttered smiling a little.

The silence that followed was not one he was used to and he turned, stopping suddenly. He didn't even flinch when she ran into him.

"Let me see," he ordered, he knew exactly what he was going to see, he just wanted on a scale from one to ten, on how bad it was.

She whined a little and hid herself more into his jacket, omitting her holding out a hand to him, which was bare, but he ignored that and pushed up the sleeves roughly up, the sleeves were almost up to her shoulder.

The bruises were a deep purple, creating a perfect band of pain around her upper arm. He didn't need to ask to know her other arm either looked like that or worse. Pulling back down both sleeves, he pulled his arm around her shoulders, walking off with her.

"Come on. I'll tell you about my day in detention and how this cracked-up school's not safe," he stated, pulling her protectively close, even if he would never admit it.

The girl only nodded, resting easily into an embrace she was very familiar with, John was the dream for an older brother, even though, again, he would never own up to it.

"Now, my dear sister, when we go to the prison called school, we must avoid the warden, Vernon, because he's…an asshole…" he began to explain a little sarcastic in the beginning

The pair easily walking back to their house on the wrong side of the tracks.

John just knew in his head that Monday was going to be a _certain_ type of hell did not prefer at all.

**End Chapter **


	2. Monday Morning

A/N – Another chapter, another show. This one is more focused on Claire. Don't know why, just is.

**Chapter 02 – Monday Morning**

Claire, dressed in her Ralph Loren brown boots, burgundy knee length split skirt, white blouse, and the same pink sweater that she wore on Saturday, was looking around the hallways, for her group. You might even call it a clique, whatever you might want to call it, she was looking for it.

There they were, beckoning her; she walked with her usual flair as she went to stand with them. Once she had joined them, her clothes, and her known 'richie' status, made her their leader. The girls around her chattered away, while the red-head in the center listened, making her off-hand comments about various prom ideas.

With the early morning students milling around, she looked up to see John a ways down, talking with _his_ friends.

John, dressed similar to the way he was Saturday, with the only real difference being he had a blue plaid shirt instead, seemed to be listening to something the "criminal" on his right was saying.

His friends held his full attention, as if all he needed at the moment was to hear their opinion. He gave a half-shrug and his lips moved, but nothing could be heard over the soft roar of hundreds of voices. He shifted his weight and looked up, nodding a little to Allison, who waved before suddenly pouncing on Andy with a laugh that could be heard over the din of talking, making many stare in her direction.

Andy just smiled a little and pulled her around, introducing her to his friends, before she pulled at him, taking him from his othersports.

He allowed her to pull him away and through the halls before being released so she could hug Brian, who smiled at her.

In a way, the Breakfast Club connected but Claire still held herself away from them, just watching.

She heard her "friends" whispering about the "clashing of two people so different" and Claire's mind skipped to what Andy had said over that Saturday.

"_Sometimes I just wish my knee would give out…"_

Claire gave a soft sigh and then smiled at her friends before nodding her head, leading them away.

They swarmed around her, reminding Claire of vultures near a dying animal.

'I wish my brother was here. He'd know what to do,' she thought as she walked among people she no longer understood.

Being part of the group she was so used to was so…unusual now. She wished she could go back and relive that Saturday again, just to feel like she belonged. Even if it was just for a little while.

**End Chapter 02**


	3. Sharing Lunch

**Chapter 03 – Sharing Lunch**

Allison was looking for an open place when she spotted the table in the corner where a girl was hunched over an open sketchbook, pencil working,with no signs of a lunch.

It was the beginning of lunch too, not the end. So, that ruled out the girl having already eaten.

The anti-social basket case immediately walked over and sat down with a little squeak, as she started putting her sandwich together. The girl's eyes, a startled brown, looked up suddenly.Allison quirked her head to the side, as if trying to remember something.

She recognized those eyes. Maybe on a different face, in a different place, but she knew those eyes. Allison let out a happy squeak and pated the girl's head…or tried, except she flinched away, almost as if to recoil.

Allison made little soft sounds, and suddenly ripped apart her bag to pull out the lunch meat, holding it to the girl. The girl was hesitant, as her hand shook a little before snatching it out of Allison's hands, opening it to eat, while the basket case peeked at the sketchbook, noting that the horse seemed to be the embodiment of fire. The flames werehalf-drawn with cheap colored pencils which were still scattered partially around the table, stubs snatched from the art department.

The sandwich meat was a little stale, but the girl said nothing and went back to her drawing, finishing it up before turning the page, a normal pencil moving along and creating lines that resembled a large, winged, lizard.

Allison poked the page and the girl, who never introduced herself, and answered, "Dragon."

The basket case watched as the girl created a dragon sleeping on piles and piles, of beautiful treasure. It was done by the end of lunch and then the girl was gone simply and easily rushing out with all her things.

With a curious squeak, the basket case wondered if she had found another friend.

**End Chapter 03**

A/N – I had not expected this to be this short, or for Allison to be here. Huh…yeah…I'm done with that thought.


	4. Knight in Dented Armor

**Chapter 04 – Knight in Dented Armor**

School flew by for John. He stared up at the ceiling for most of his classes, hearing what they said and doing just enough to get a passing grade.

Most of the teachers had once tried to persuade him to do better, but he never did. Eventually they left him alone and he was allowed to do as he always did; barely pass.

He missed their frustrated looks and anger toward themselves. Some teachers, who did in fact love teaching, felt they failed him. Shop was the only class he actually applied himself in and this wasn't shop. "Mr. Bender, can you tell me what started the Civil War?"

He looked up. This new guy never just left him _alone_. "Abraham Lincoln?"

"No, Mr. Bender. I know you know the answer to this and I won't release the class till you answer it correctly."

John stared and let out a growl like sigh. "When Abraham Lincoln came to become president with a success rate of something really low because there had been three runners, the South got pissed. They were pissed because Lincoln wanted to end slavery. So, the South left the United States, and became the Confederacy. After that, they started having a bit huge fight about slavery. There is the Civil War. The North won."

"Very good Mr. Bender. I expect a one thousand word essay on the Civil War. And I don't want regurgitated facts. You are all released, except you Mr. Bender. Please see me after class, or I'll just hold you for a half an hour detention."

John scowled. Great, more time away from his sis. He hoped she could wait a little longer and he waved one of his friends off. "He's just being an ass."

The guy nodded, about to go, when John caught his arm. "Go check on Jane for me Paul."

Paul, his best friend, was the only one who knew who Jane was. He nodded and exited quickly, while John looked up at the teacher.

"Mr. Bender, you are a very smart young man. I just don't know how someone of your level of intelligence can act so stupid. I talked to your other teachers. You don't pay attention and you get the highest level Cs in the class. What if you actually tried? Where would that put you?"

John shrugged and he sighed. "John, you need to apply yourself, or you are going to be _stuck_ in this town for the rest of your life."

"Well, maybe I _want_ to be." John replied with a determined look. He wasn't letting this teacher be in command or be his dictator.

"With your record of pulling fire alarms, who would hire you?"

"I already got a part-time job. He says he'll make me full-time once I graduate."

The teacher sighed and looked down. "Why are you settling John?"

John glared at him, this _Mr._ Pritchard. "What do ya mean, settling?"

"You're settling John. You are settling for a life, instead of striving to do better. What about your sister?"

The fury in John's gaze reached a new level.

The teacher continued. "Because, if you settle, I doubt you'll be able to help her. So, what is it John? Because, you have a gift. A gift I haven't seen in all my years as a teacher! You are smart, John Bender. And you'll help _no one_, if you don't apply yourself. "

The teacher paused for a moment and took a thoughtful look at the floor. "You're excused John, but don't think this is the last conversation we have unless…you get an A or high B in _all_ your classes." The teacher finished.

John stared and Mr. Pritchard smiled. "Well, John? You going to back down from a challenge?"

John put a snarl on his face and then left without another word, stalking out. Mr. Pritchard watched him go and sat back onto John's desk. The squeak of wheels made him look up and he smiled. "Hey Carl."

Mr. Pritchard looked away after his greeting, heading to his desk in the front of the room. "Hey Alex. So…you've decided to make John apply himself?"

"I can't _make_ him do anything Carl."

The American History teacher looked up at the Janitor. He let out a soft sigh and rubbed his eyes. "When I first met John, I thought I was looking into a mirror back in our school days," Carl stated.

Alex Pritchard looked up at Carl. "I thought I was seeing you. And then Mrs. Allen got you to apply yourself. Did you give him the speech she gave to you?" the janitor added.

"Basically."

Carl chuckled. "Well, maybe it will work."

"I…just want him to apply himself. He can bring so much good to this world! I see it in him. And why has no one tried, really _tried_, with that boy before?"

"Because they weren't as determined as you. Go home Alex. Grade papers. Goad him into learning."

"He's learning, just not _applying_ himself."

Alex Pritchard packed up his things and left meanwhile, John stalked through the school, trying to find Paul or Jane. Preferably both.

The young man was trying to ignore his words. As he turned a corner, Paul almost fell into him. He was supporting a bloody nose. "Hurry! Some sport-o's are razzing Jane!" Paul exclaimed, using their group's nickname for the sport fanatics.

John took off, easily leaving Paul behind. As he rushed down stairs, he turned another corner to find three sport-o's shove Jane into a closet.

"Wow. You big tough men need to pick on a tiny girl to satisfy your manliness. Something's wrong with this, right Paul?"

"I'd say. At least we don't need to compensate for anything," Paul answered, just loud enough to have him be heard, if a bit stuffy.

A pounding was coming from the closet door and John smirked dangerously at the jocks. He was going to make them pay for hurting his sister. Of course, that's not why he had said anything. He would do the same thing if it was any other girl. You didn't hit females, no matter how much they annoyed you; just like you didn't hit dogs or children.

"What, she a wallet girl Bender?"

"If she was, you'd already be on the ground sport-o."

John easily avoided the first punch and he downed him with a swift punch to the stomach. The next punch skinned him and the sport-o that grazed John then got punched by Paul, who was more of a fighter then John. Paul had already downed the third guy and John pushed the guy still trying to catch his breathe away.

"Get out of here, before we really decide to hurt you."

Paul defended John's back while he got the closet open. He stumbled as Jane crashed into him, clinging and sobbing.

"Easy, easy. I got you Jane, I got you."

Paul looked away, as if he wasn't seeing or hearing this before Jane calmed down. Once calmed, he was back to his usual big brother self; which was acting like he didn't care, but everyone there knew he did. Only then did Paul smile at Jane.

"Hey Jane-girl!"

His hand was slow before patting her head, ruffling her hair a bit.

"Paul!"

The criminal just grinned and quirked his head. "Come on. I got the truck."

"Yeah, anyplace is better then here."

John wrapped a protective arm around Jane's shoulder while Paul fell behind a bit. The two guys talked over her head, but people in John's Group usually did. Not because they didn't want to exclude her, but because Jane rarely talked.

She sat in-between the two guys in the cab of the truck, legs easily away from the stick shift, hiding against John's side. "Where to John?"

"Anywhere."

Paul nodded and began to drive off. The jocks wouldn't say anything…hopefully. Paul chewed on the inside of his cheek in worry over that. John couldn't afford to get in trouble for a fight. Well, he could, actually. Vernon just tried to get John out by having him drop out or something.

In the cab, John lit up a normal cigarette and rolled down the window a bit to blow the smoke outside. Paul realized he'd have to make a suggestion. "I thought the diner would be good. It's a short walk to the Auto Garage."

"Yeah…I got to work till closing tonight. Can you watch Jane for me?"

"Sure."

Jane said nothing, as she was actually asleep. Paul moved to wake her. "Don't."

The warning in John's voice is enough to still Paul's hand, placing it back on the steering wheel. When John spoke like that, everyone knew not to push it. "Bad weekend, huh?"

The silence was the answer Paul needed.

**End Chapter 04**


	5. Art Class

**Chapter 05 – Art Class**

Jane scrunched down in the back corner of the room, staring at her paper. The in-class assignment was to draw what she was _feeling_. She hated when teachers asked her that. She felt scared, and interrogated. Slowly, she picked up some of the stolen stubs and began to draw a small wood closet. It gave a claustrophobic feeling through the paper as she colored the rest a dark color, while putting careful detail and much care in her own creative work.

She looked up when she felt someone sit at the desk in front of her. Jane blinked and leaned back while Allison leaned forward slightly with a squeak. Jane leaned farther back and Allison pushed again into her private space. "I'm Allison."

Her eyes darted around, as if looking for an escape. Her breathing had quickened into short, sharp pants and she tried to lean farther away, only to find herself against the wall. "Jane."

She was surprised that she managed to say it, but she did. That claustrophobic feeling was back. She didn't like that feeling. Twitching, she tried to pull away from Allison, except Allison pulled out. "Good. We're friends now, right?"

"What?"

"Friends. Buddies. People who hang out at lunch? Have someplace to go on Saturdays?"

Jane was already zoning out. At her house, it was never a home, attention was bad. Attention meant that you had to worry about a fist sailing toward your head or something else coming toward your head. Maybe another body part, but usually the head and exactly where it hurt the most. She went back to her drawing, adding more color to it.

Because lying meant you lived, In her little fractured world, the world she and her brother lived in, someone always had to take the blame. That was the way it worked. Didn't matter if they had no idea what went wrong; they got blamed. She shivered a little and when the bell rang, she tore out of there as fast as she could, much paler and weaker then before.

**End Chapter 05**


	6. Clarie's Knight

**Chapter 06 – Claire's Knight**

Claire sat in front of her house on the porch. She was debating over whether to fake sick and get her mom to call her in ill or not, when she heard a blare of a horn. She looked up suddenly and beamed when she saw a tall frame smiling up at her. "Henry!"

Her overjoyed shriek came from nowhere as she rushed down, uncaring if she damaged her clothes. She crashed into her older brother and he lifted her up easily in a hug, twirling her carefully. "Hey little sis! What's happening? What are you doing wearing that crap on your face?"

Henry began to pull out a handkerchief and tried to get it off, gently. "Henry, stop! I can't go to school without it on!"

He stopped. "Why?"

Claire looked away. "Claire…what happened when I left?"

She sniffed a little and suddenly plowed in Henry, beginning to explain everything to him. He held her close, inside shaking with rage over their parents. They had tried to salvage what they had left of their two children; Henry, the throw-away of his life musician and their "talentless" daughter, something they had once reminded of her daily. When he left, turning his back on them, they tried to mold their daughter into the perfect little high-society snob, to marry off to one of their business partners' sons; to whichever one who wasn't married when they considered her old enough to marry off.

"Come on. I got you something that might remind you of yourself."

Claire took the present and he shut the door on the car, following her in. Weren't their parents in for a shock when they saw their "good little girl" come home from school that day. His mother hadn't even noticed that he was in the foray, waiting for her to come down.

When Claire came down, she was wearing something his fiancée had made. It was a nice quilt style thing with a puffy short sleeved shirt and long black gloves. Claire twirled a little like a maniac and giggled, still wearing her brown boots. "Come on. Let's go freak out your so-called friends. You don't need them anymore then you need that one missing diamond stud. What did you do to the other?"

Claire smiled secretively and ran out so Henry could drive her to school. She wasn't wearing any of what she called, "that black shit" but wasn't wearing that much make-up at all anymore really. Henry just followed with a grin. _There_ was his Claire-Bear.

**End Chapter 06**

A/N – Yes, that was her older brother. And yes, that is my interpretation of Claire. And no, I have no idea where that nickname came from


End file.
